


The Spy Who Would Be King

by midnight_marimba



Series: The Art of the Stage Kiss [2]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Act 2 Spoilers, But it's not that big a deal, Erik is rude, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Nonbinary Sylvia | Sylvando (Dragon Quest XI), Stealing the Show, Sylv PoV, alcohol mention, further discussion of violence, there's only one bed, violence in the street
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_marimba/pseuds/midnight_marimba
Summary: Erik makes a fabulous spymaster, and I couldn’t be prouder.  (Did I tell you it was my idea?)  Only, when he unexpectedly goes quiet on a job to infiltrate a town of thieves and ne’er-do-wells, we do worry.  But not to worry!  The Great Sylv knows how to keep a low profile in order to go check up on him.Okay, okay.  A different profile, anyway.  And if he wants to enhance my cover story with a little hint of romance, well, who am I to turn down a bit of improv?
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Sylvia | Sylvando (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: The Art of the Stage Kiss [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011258
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	The Spy Who Would Be King

**Author's Note:**

> Content advisory for violence (I don’t know if I’d call it graphic, exactly, but blood & lasting injury are mentioned, and it is A Theme?) Also alcohol and mention of blackouts, and suggestive/objectifying language, and overall this hits a darker tone than the previous piece in this series.
> 
> I believe the spoilers in this piece only really go into Act 2, though it's set a significant time after postgame.
> 
> This is planned as part 2 of 3 in this series, but this piece probably could be read as a oneshot.

A girl barely as tall as my waist stuck her hand in my pocket.

I patted her on the head. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m flat broke right now. Check tomorrow, after I’ve had some time to try my luck.” I winked. She gaped, then giggled as she bounced away.

I wasn’t really dressed so as to suggest that I had access to any funds. I’d been forewarned about the nature of this town, after all, and you can say what you like, but I like to think that after a decade or so as a traveling entertainer, I came out a jester, not a fool. I had some emergency coins sewn into the cuffs of my trousers and a couple more up my sleeves, but my pockets were empty. I carried a battered lute in a scratched-up case, but I held that in my arms at the moment, so it would be pretty tricky to steal it even if somebody decided it was worth the time.

The fanciest part of my appearance today was the braiding I’d worked into my hair. My jewelry was made of a few mismatched beads of glass strung on twine, and I had fashioned a wide strip of burlap into a ruffled collar and dipped the edges of it in purple dye before affixing it to a simple shirt, because I couldn’t possibly do completely bland. I thought it looked nice enough for something I could have produced entirely out of scavenged goods. Should catch the eye without making anyone dream of the riches they could take off my person.

And I wanted to catch the eye.

I mean. Of course I did. Have you met me?

But I had a specific reason to want to cause a little stir today. If I could gather some attention, generate a little gossip, then I wouldn’t have to go looking for Erik. Erik would come looking for me.

  


* * *

  


I’d gone for a routine little visit with Jade the previous week. It was pleasant as usual: laughter and affection and the tastiest snacks, and the agreeable sense that my company helped her switch to a mode of relaxation she didn't much get to indulge in at court. But then I mentioned Erik, and a worried frown clouded her face.

“You know, Sylv, I’m a little concerned. Erik’s letters have been getting shorter and less detailed and...Well. I just have this funny feeling like it’s not going well and he doesn’t want to tell me.”

“Where is he?”

“It’s a little town at the far edge of the kingdom. Technically it’s a border town, and the leaders historically tend to change their minds about whether they want to call themselves part of the kingdom or not at least once a generation. Historically, the rulers of Heliodor also tend to change their minds about whether they even want to bother enforcing rulership over the town. It’s complicated.”

“Why?”

“I’m told they have a culture that lends itself to thieving and banditry. But the people there claim to like it that way. They say they have a system that works for them. So as long as they kept to themselves and we didn’t get roving packs of bandits coming out from their territory, Hendrik tells me my father left them to their own devices for the most part.”

“And that’s where our Erik’s gone for a little vacation, hmm?”

Jade sighed. “I don’t understand the place, and I don’t know how to begin to tell if trouble’s brewing over there, so, you know.” She waved a hand vaguely. By our established convention, we never quite spoke directly of Erik’s secret title of Spymaster of Heliodor. “He seemed like he was kind of excited about it when he left, but I don’t know. Of course he can take care of himself, but...I worry.”

“Well, I happen to know even brigands appreciate a good performance. I have a bit of time right now between big shows. Maybe I can do a little stint as a wandering bard.”

“Sylv.” Jade scrunched her face up with a mix of what might have been embarrassment and hope. “I wasn’t fishing for more help on the job.”

“Does Her Majesty forbid me from traveling to this town that may or may not be part of her kingdom?”

“I suppose not, but…”

I winked. “Don’t worry, darling, I do know a thing or two about keeping myself safe as a traveling entertainer.”

She folded her hands over her knee. “And I know you can handle yourself in a fight, of course.” Another sigh. “I won’t stop you if you choose to go.”

  


* * *

  


So there I was, barging unannounced into a town of scoundrels and ne’er-do-wells. 

I asked around until someone directed me to a tavern called The Shady Shrimp, a ramshackle building with an apparent investment in selling food and drink without telling anyone anything about the ingredients. It also had a small space where I could play and sing with my back to a wall, which was a plus, because if this really was the most dangerous sort of locale, it was better not to let somebody sneak up behind me while I was a tad distracted. Of course, the songs I intended to play were all ones I’d performed a hundred times before, so I could plop them out without thinking, and it wasn’t as if I’d be oblivious to my surroundings.

“Good evening, my friends! I am Van, the traveling minstrel, and I hope you’ll all enjoy one or two of my little ditties this evening!” I proclaimed to the handful of surly-looking people who lined the edges of the dingy room.

The serving girl propped the door open so the sound of my lute would spill out into the street, and I nodded approval. It had been years since I’d carried a lute, but I’d practiced along my journey here, and I’d already worked the worst of the rust out of my fingers. And I hadn’t heard any other music on my way in, and I suspected I might not have an awful lot of competition. Whether that was true or not, it wasn’t too long before I started to bring in a little crowd.

They might or might not have all been hardened criminals, but just for the moment, they were an audience like any other, caught up in the pleasure of a bit of music and story, and I loved them for it.

I got a few thoughtful little tips dropped into my lute case. I pretended not to notice that a third of the people who stepped up walked away with more than they donated. I wasn’t really playing for my supper, and at least they seemed to be having fun.

When I stopped to rest my voice, a gentleman with a huge scar across his face sat down on the little stage next to me and tried to press a mug of fragrant dark ale into my hand.

“Oh, thank you, honey,” I said, “But I can’t do the hard stuff when I’m performing. I’ll forget all the words. Mind bringing me something lighter? I’m sure a sturdy thing like you can find somewhere to put away the first.”

I’d learned to be cautious about accepting free, strong drinks in the early days of my career as a lone performer, after I woke up one day in a cold alley behind a tavern, missing my purse. And my instrument. And in fact all of my worldly possessions except for my underwear. 

Actually, that was the last time I’d carried a lute up until this trip. After I’d gotten over the first wave of dismay and embarrassment, I’d opted to switch to another focus as an entertainer rather than trying to save up and buy a new stringed instrument. I had enjoyed it, but then again, I enjoyed a lot of avenues of performance, and I’d decided it was a good time to try something new, because I didn’t actually want to box myself into only ever being a musician.

I didn’t really fancy a repeat of that episode though, so I kept an eye on the fellow while he wandered over to consult the barkeeper and came back with a second mug, which proved to contain a much milder beverage.

I accepted the new offering with a smile and a word of thanks, and I sipped at the weak beer to ease the dryness building in my throat. Not the tastiest thing I’d ever drank, but honestly not the worst, and probably a healthier choice than water from an unknown source.

The gentleman backed off to the nearest table while I went back to playing, then approached me once again when I took another pause between sets.

“What’s yer name again?” he asked.

“Van, darling.” I’d announced it at least a dozen times, knowing that if word got to Erik, he would recognize it as a secret identity I’d used before, when I’d helped him out for an afternoon by posing as a busker to distract someone whose belongings he needed to inspect.

“Right, right. ‘S a good name, Van.”

“Thank you, honey. I’ve always thought so, myself. And—”

“Van! What the hell are you doing here?”

I didn’t have to pretend delight at the sound of Erik’s voice ringing from the tavern entrance, even though he sounded more than a little cross. “Oh, darling! I hoped you’d find me!”

“Uh huh.” Erik’s eyes flickered over to my would-be companion, and he stalked across the room towards me.

He’d colored his hair black, and I did know that he’d picked up a little fashion awareness from yours truly, but the leathers he wore were a good deal nicer than I’d expected for undercover spy work. For that matter, I hadn’t quite expected him to get my attention by shouting at me across a crowded room.

Erik’s eyes flickered over to my would-be companion, and he stalked across the room towards me. He put himself between me and the other gentleman, put a hand on the small of my back to steer me a couple of steps away, and then, to my astonishment, he snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me against his side. “Not that it’s not nice to see my favorite little siren, but why here?”

I never minded a hug, and I was beyond tickled that he’d picked some kind of previously established romance as my cover story for knowing him. It wasn’t technically the first time we’d ever crossed a stage playing a romantic couple, but it was certainly still a charming little surprise.

But when I joined the charade by running a friendly hand through his hair and onto his shoulder, I could feel him wound up as tense as a bowstring.

I took a bit of truth and spiced it up with a little pout. “You were away so long. I missed you.”

“That’s your floozy, Rik?” the scarred fellow said.

“I beg your pardon!” I exclaimed. “I am a gentleperson, and if you haven’t the eyes to see it, well! I’m sorry I drank your drink, sir.” I sniffed in very slightly exaggerated offense.

“They’re definitely not for the likes of you, Bootsie,” Erik said to the larger man, with a small smile and half-lidded eyes.

“Boots,” growled Bootsie under his breath, but he just crossed his arms and said, “Whatever. Shoulda known you’d have a taste for flimsy peacocks.”

Erik replied while I was still trying to decide how indignant Van the Floozy ought to be. “I understand your jealousy, but you’re gonna have to learn to live with it. Unless you’re tired of living?”

Bootsie rolled his shoulders and looked away. “Tired of this conversation. Gonna get a drink,” he muttered, apparently oblivious to the extra mug he still held in one hand. He took a couple slow steps backwards before he turned to leave us, looking exactly like someone trying not to look like he was running away.

Erik watched him go, then turned his face vaguely in my direction. “Okay, Van. Since you’re here anyway, let’s go somewhere we can...talk.” He looked me up and down with a small crooked smile, eyes roaming everywhere but my face.

That wasn’t quite the direction I would have taken the scene, but I leaned into the improv anyway, and said, “Of course, darling. Why do you think I came here?”

It really wasn’t my favorite style of courtship, this impersonal yet possessive attitude. And you don’t get a free pass on manners just because you’ve kissed me on a stage one time. If he really had been trying to romance me, he certainly should have looked me in the eyes, and preferably commented on the extraordinary beauty thereof.

But for undercover Erik, as undercover me, I was willing to follow his lead and play along with whatever he felt best.

His gaze went as high as my chin before he tilted his head toward the door and sauntered in that direction, leaving me to fling my lute into its case, along with my evening’s scanty earnings, and follow behind him. I called to the room as I went, “Thank you all! You’ve been a lovely audience!” because it rarely hurts to be kind to your fans, whoever they may be.

Outside, Erik waited for me to fall into step at his side, and he put a light hand behind my elbow to steer me down a side street. Not that there appeared to be such a thing as a main street in this town. It seemed to be built like a rabbit’s warren, all arbitrary branching and odd cul-de-sacs. I decided after a handful of twists and turns that if I had to find my own way out of town in a hurry, I might be best served going by rooftop.

“When did you get to town?” Erik said after a few such streets. His voice sounded a little flat, like he was making small talk out of obligation rather than interest, and when I glanced at his face, he was scanning our surroundings.

“Just late this afternoon. Spent a couple hours singing.”

Suddenly, I heard a soft footstep behind us, and Erik instantly sprang into motion. He whirled with a knife in his hand, and I heard a sharp cry, and by the time I’d turned and made sense of what had happened, Erik had shoved a thin man against a nearby wall. The man clutched a bloody hand against himself and wore an expression of terror.

“I’ve warned you and warned you again,” Erik snarled into his face. “You imagined the time to try me was when I had company, of all things? Tch. Try me again, ever, and you’ll lose much more than the full use of one hand.” He wiped his dagger clean on the shoulder of the man’s shirt, then took a couple steps back before turning away with a disgusted expression. He sheathed his weapon without fanfare and continued down the street without looking at me.

I threw one more worried look at the would-be-mugger as he fled into an alleyway, then hurried to catch up with Erik. I couldn’t say that I cared for inflicting lasting damage on a human being as a deterrent for villainy unless I had no other option, and I hadn’t really thought that was Erik’s style either. But I certainly didn’t have the lay of the land the way Erik did, and there in the middle of the street didn’t seem like the right place or time to challenge him on it.

“Think there’s going to be any more trouble along the way?” I asked instead, quietly, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“There better not be any more trouble along the way.” Erik didn’t bother to keep his voice down. “I’ve had it up to here with these idiots thinking they can take me down. I can’t guarantee my good manners next time.”

Well, obviously he wasn’t talking to me. I increased my volume and added for our hypothetical audience, “Haven’t they seen you fight? Even if I’d only seen a tenth of what you’re capable of, I would never raise my hand against you.”

“These guys don’t even qualify as light exercise.” He tilted his head towards a relatively tall building, one with second story windows, and I gathered we’d arrived.

I decided I liked dwelling on the theme of violence less than I liked the other element of our performance, so while he opened the front door to the building, I threw on a saucy smile and said, “Maybe we can have a little chat about some more worthwhile exercise routines.”

“Yeah, sure.” He led me inside, traded a tiny nod with the men lounging in the entry room, and headed upstairs. “Let’s make it a long chat. In fact, anyone decides to bother me tonight and the building’s not on fire, I’m gonna invent new ways to make them regret it.”

Erik ushered me into a middling-sized room, shut the door behind us, and locked it. He tugged on the handle, as though he wanted to make sure it was really latched. Then he leaned his back against the door, crossed his arms, and shut his eyes with a sigh.

“Nice to see you, too, darling,” I said, sugar sweet to make up for his lack of enthusiasm.

“Why are you here? It’s really not a good time for a visit.” Erik glared past me at the shuttered window.

“Did I ruin a plan?”

“Not really. But I’d rather not have to watch anyone else’s back, here.”

“Who’s watching your back, then?”

“I don’t need anyone to watch my back. I have a system, and it works.”

“A system that involves getting jumped in the street, and sending your opponents to the priest?”

“There’s no priest in this town.”

“What?”

“One of the factions has a healer. Don’t think that guy belongs to that faction.”

“So he’s…”

“Probably never going to be able to use that hand quite right again.”

I held my tongue. I was pretty sure Erik already knew what my gut reaction would be, anyway.

Erik shoved himself away from the door and paced across the room without looking at me. He yanked the shutters open, peered outside, then shut and relatched them. He opened and shut the wardrobe, and did the same with a battered chest at the foot of the bed. Both were nearly empty. Then he ducked his head to look under the bed.

“Room’s clear. Make yourself at home, I guess.” He sat himself down on top of the chest, his back against the wall and his arms crossed.

I thought about stepping into his line of sight to see if he would turn his head away from me, but I decided I ought to learn a little more before I tried to push him like that. Instead, I plopped down on the bed and scooted backwards to lean my back against the wall, too.

“So? How’s your mission going?” I asked.

“Fine. What are you here for, anyway? Did Ja...you-know-who send you? Are there problems somewhere else?”

“Everything’s fine back home. We were just worried about you.”

“Why? I’ve been sending the damn letters.”

“Yes,” I said, growing more worried rather than less at his sharp tone. “And you started saying less and less.”

“Wasn’t much worth saying. Besides, I’m pretty sure the mail girl is snooping on my mail by now.”

“Well, I’m here all night, so you might as well scrounge up some boring details to pass the time.”

I stretched, peeled off my boots, and flopped out full length the wrong way on the bed, so my head landed next to Erik’s elbow and gave me a view up his nose. He twitched a little as I settled, like he wasn’t comfy with me being that close.

“Fine,” he said, sounding like he was making time for an interview with a tax collector. “There’s three main factions in this town right now. No real differences worth noting. It’s really just about who you know, and who you’ve impressed, and accidents of birth.”

“So it’s traditional Heliodor politics,” I suggested with a tiny smile.

“Yeah, right. Just with a lot more literal backstabbing.”

“So how many backstabbings have you been involved with?”

Erik didn’t answer. I started to worry a little harder. Finally, he said, “Define backstabbing.”

“Ah...I guess the definition’s in the word?”

“One, then. But it was just a nick with a clean blade, and I had herbs for it. There’s barely a scar.”

“Erik.”

“My own fault. I got sloppy. Thought I could afford to drink a round or two and get information that way, even after I started working my way up the ranks.”

“You might have called for backup.”

“No, thanks. This is better as a solo job.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little…”

“What?” Erik’s voice was flat, almost hostile.

“Tense.” I pursed my lips, then added, “Cranky. Not yourself.”

“Not myself? Maybe you don’t know me very well.”

“I traveled with you for the better part of two years. I’ve seen you at least once a week for almost two more years after that. I think I know you well enough. I know what you look like when you’re happy, and this certainly isn’t it.”

“Tch. Sometimes a guy can’t afford to be happy. Sometimes you have to do what it takes to get the damn job done.”

I didn’t bother trying to smooth out the crease in my forehead. “How long until that happens?”

“Hard to say. This whole thing is kind of like trying to keep a volcano from erupting.”

“Sounds like a big job for one man.”

“Yeah, well, one man in the right place is gonna be better than an army, here. What else are you gonna do, march in and kill everybody? Better to apply force in exactly the right places.”

I frowned a little more, reviewing the scraps of information he’d given me so far. “And how many more backstabbings have you been involved with, figuratively speaking?”

Erik shut his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall. Instead of answering properly, he said, “I wish you weren’t here, Sylv.”

Well. That hurt, at first look, coming from a dearly beloved friend as it was. It took me a moment to dig up the benefit of the doubt and suppose he might mean it more kindly than it sounded.

Erik spoke again before I did, and it didn’t really help. “It’s hard enough trying to keep my own skin in one piece. It’s gonna be a pain in the ass to look after yours, too.”

“There was a time when we’d watch each other’s backs, you know.”

“I don’t need that right now. What I need is for everyone to back off and let me do my job.”

“When are you going to be done with that?”

“Told you, I don’t know. Can’t plan too far ahead with this.”

“You don’t have to snap at me, honey. I’m on your side.”

“Then just trust me, and leave me alone. I have everything under control as long as I don’t have unwanted surprises dropping in on me.”

That stung, too. But it really was out of character for Erik to be so standoffish as all this. Not with me, not at this point in our friendship.

So I went for blunt honesty. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, honey. I thought you might be at least a teensy bit glad to see me, but you’re acting almost like I’m an enemy.”

Erik let out a noisy sigh, but it was another minute before he actually said anything. I crossed my arms and waited him out.

“I wish you weren’t here to see me like this,” he said at last. “I’m going to be terrible company for decent people until this job is done.”

Well, that felt a little better than the short version. “Maybe you should take a vacation,” I offered.

“Maybe you—” He started to snap, but he cut himself off, and he said more calmly, “I can’t step away from this. Even taking an early night like this is risky. They’re watching all the time for any mistakes, any kind of weakness. If I leave for a day, somebody’s going to make a plan to overthrow me, and I’ll have to spend weeks putting things in order again.”

“Overthrow you? How does somebody overthrow a spy?”

“It didn’t work out like a regular job, okay?”

“I thought the idea was for you to keep a low profile.”

“Yeah, that was the idea. Didn’t really work. Got into some trouble I wasn’t willing to accept, had to pull a knife and make a point, and, well, it kind of escalated. One thing after another. After I fought a dozen people at once and managed not to kill anyone outright doing it, the whole gang decided it was better to follow me than fight me.”

“Do you mean you’re the leader of one of the three factions now?”

Erik shrugged a shoulder. “Seems that way.”

I wasted a small worried frown on him, because he definitely was avoiding looking at me. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Fine. Makes some things easier. Can usually get my lackeys to do predictable things. I get enough people pandering to me that it’s fairly easy to get information.”

“But being in charge doesn’t make everything easier?”

Erik’s mouth twisted. “I waste more time fighting off enemies of the faction. Sometimes I think the other leaders are sending their stupidest people after me nonstop because they don’t care if I kill them. Although by now, I guess that they’ve gotten the idea that I don’t like to kill, so they think it’s funny to test me. Or maybe they’re just doing it to wear me down.”

“I see. Well, if you’re a leader, shouldn’t you have a team of people to help protect you?”

“Can’t trust anyone that much. Pretty sure there are a dozen in my faction alone who would sell me out in a heartbeat if they didn’t think I’d make them regret it. And the ones who aren’t smart enough to plot against me also aren’t smart enough to judge an appropriate response to aggression. They’d just go for the kill.”

I rubbed my chin, frowning. Thought about sitting up, but decided what I had to say might go over easier if my posture was as unthreatening as possible, so I stayed prone on the bed, and I tried, “Erik, darling. Can I offer a little feedback?”

“Doesn’t look like I can stop you.”

“This whole thing looks like a pretty unwieldy situation. Unpleasant work, no friendship, no trust. You’re tenser than a lute string tuned three octaves too high. Are you sure this is what you want to be doing?”

“There’s no better way, Sylv,” he said with a sharp wave of his hand. “These people are so wary of outsiders, I started getting followed and harassed just for asking questions about long-term lodging. There are enough traps and guards around every little stronghold that even I can’t find a safe way to eavesdrop. The only way I’m going to learn anything is by living as part of a group, and the only way I was ever going to pull that off without having been born into a group is by earning rank in the group.”

“I’ve been with you for less than an hour, and I’ve already seen you hurt somebody. You’re snapping at me, and you’re threatening everybody else. You’re living a life of violence. You’ve joined up with a bad crowd, honey, and you’ve gone way past subtle and straight to becoming a warlord.”

Erik gave a sharp sigh, then said, “This is why I wish you weren’t here, Sylv. I wish you were somewhere safe. I wish you were somewhere you wouldn’t see me like this. I wish you were somewhere I didn’t have to worry about this cesspit splashing onto you, too. You’re kindness and joy and life and everything good in the world, and I don’t want this town to ruin you. I don’t want you anywhere near any of this.”

I looked up at him with my mouth hanging open for a moment, because of all the ways I imagined he might crack open his tough guy facade, poetic flattery wasn’t one of them. Then I cleared my throat and said, “Well. I think there’s a bit of my Erik. But the rest of all this isn’t you. If this is a town that ruins people, I don’t much care for you being here, yourself.”

He tightened his arms across his chest, clenching his fingers on his elbows. “It’s not making me into anything new. If you think I didn’t have it in me to be a warlord, you’re wrong. I’ve always known how to be this. I’m no stranger to bad crowds.”

“Even when you were fresh out of a life of thievery, you didn’t come across so harsh as this.”

“The life of thievery softened the edges.” His mouth twisted, like it was supposed to be a joke but he didn’t think it was funny.

“I won’t believe this is the core of who you are and all the rest was just pretend,” I insisted.

“Sylv, I was raised by a Viking clan. This is what I was raised to be. The Vikings were exactly like this.” He waved a hand in sharp emphasis. “That’s why it should be me alone doing this job. It’s not a stretch for me to be this. It’s familiar like...like a pair of socks that hasn’t been washed for a year. Stinks to hell and back, but at least I know how to wear it.”

“I see. And how do you find the fit? Have you discovered things that you missed about living a Viking life?”

“Hell, no. They were violent, aggressive, selfish people, and I despised them. Even back then, when we finally got a new guy who wasn’t stronger than me, and I started trying to shove him down in the pecking order, I didn’t really like what I was doing. But I know how to live like that, and I don’t trust anyone else who does, and I don’t want anyone that I do trust to have to stoop to this level. So. It’s gotta be me.” 

“But...” 

He kept talking before I could come up with a counterargument. “I kinda feel like I was just running from this for a long time. Like it’s a part of me that was just waiting for me to give in and accept it. The Luminary’s big destiny was to save the world, right? And Jade’s is to rule a kingdom. I figure this one’s mine. Can’t keep running from it forever.”

“Erik.” I felt my brow crease. “Just because you were raised with an expectation of violence doesn’t mean you’re destined to live that way forever.”

“It’s no good to just pretend my past doesn’t exist. Tried that, and it still caught up to me.”

“Erik. Listen.” I lifted a hand off the bed, raised it back over my head, and dropped my knuckles lightly against his knee to make sure I had his attention. “Just because you were raised to live by the sword doesn’t mean you’re doomed to live that way forever. Or at all. And if you do use some of the skills, you can do it on your own terms, in a way that lets you sleep at night. Believe me.”

He wore a reserved look, but then I saw the understanding flash across his face. He frowned. “Sylv, being a knight is nothing like being a Viking.”

“Isn’t it? I’m not saying the code of ethics is the same, and that part certainly must make a difference. But it still meant everyone around me fully expected that the most important thing about me was always going to be how good I was with a sword. How good I’d be at performing violence.”

Erik finally, finally met my eyes. I held his gaze and waited.

“That wouldn’t suit you at all,” he said.

I gave a small nod. “And this doesn’t suit you, either.”

He looked at me for another long moment, then closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. I held my peace and let him think it over for a couple minutes.

“I really don’t like what I’ve been doing,” he finally admitted. “I keep telling myself it’s temporary, but I haven’t liked anything I’ve done for months.”

“Mm.”

“I thought I could use the authority to make people be better to each other. Make the higher ups be nicer to the people who don’t want to fight for rank. But they don’t really listen to anything short of a threat, and I’m just spending all my time trying to keep the authority. The last guy at least had some family ties that kept a couple solid allies on his side.”

“And you’re here alone.”

“The only thing I have going for me is I’m way better with my knives than anyone they’ve seen before. I can take any ten people here, no problem, but I’ve made enemies, and they keep testing me, trying to see if they can catch me in a moment of weakness. I’m trying my hardest not to kill anyone, but a lot of people see that as a weakness in itself, and I’m having to back up more of my threats.”

“Like today."

"I'm afraid I'm going to kill somebody. Just take it too far one day and do something I can’t undo. I think I got somebody killed by accident, already. When I took over from the old leader, one of the other factions came after him, and one of his bodyguards was killed. The third faction took in what’s left of them as low level grunts. It’s not that any of them were good guys, and I don't think the old leader and his cronies are particularly good for anybody, but I don't want people dying because of me."

"Oh, honey."

"I have hurt people, though. Sometimes in ways that will last. I hate it. I feel like I'm becoming everything I've ever hated in a man. Getting what I want by hurting people and making other people afraid of me. But I couldn't see any other way to get them to back off. And I haven’t seen any other way to accomplish anything here."

"It sounds like a terrible time."

"I'm tired, Sylv. I'm so tired of this."

I took another moment to think. Then I sat up and scooted down to the end of the bed so I could sit right next to him with my back against the wall. It put my head a good bit higher than his, but laying down no longer felt like the right posture.

“Okay, let me try laying out the story another way. Tell me if I’ve missed something, but it looks a bit like this: You’ve been trying to solve a problem that our mutual friend didn’t actually ask you to solve, for people who aren’t really showing any interest in the changes you’re offering. The process you’re using to do it is stressing you out and making you into somebody you don’t like. You feel like you might be doing as much harm as good, and you aren’t sure when, if ever, you’ll be finished with your project.”

Erik pressed his lips together. He shifted on his makeshift seat and pulled his legs up to his chest, and I wondered if I’d been too blunt, but I thought he was still thinking it over, despite his more closed posture.

“You’re saying I should give up. Just walk away.”

“I’m saying you should consider it. At least look for some other option besides more of the same.”

“I don’t know what other path I could take to change things for the better around here.”

“I don’t think you’re going to build a peaceful city by conquering it as a violent warlord.”

“You’re right.” He shut his eyes and rubbed a knuckle over his eyebrows, like he was trying to push a headache out by brute force.

“So come home. Hire somebody here to send you intel, promote somebody to take your place in the faction, and come home to the big city.”

He looked up and started slowly tapping a toe while he thought that over. “I’d need to hire at least three unrelated spies. If they don’t know about each other, then I’ll know if someone’s trying to feed me false information.”

The fact that he was engaging with the idea of extracting himself flooded me with relief. “That sounds pretty clever.”

“The old leader won’t be able to take his job back, not after I made him look weak, but Boots could do all right. Our people like him as much as they like anyone, and he has family ties, so I think he can keep some guards who won’t sell him out.”

“He didn’t seem awful, when I met him. A little rough, maybe, but I’ve met worse in a drinking crowd.”

“He’s definitely not the worst person in the town.” Another pause for thought. “I’ll still be sorry to leave behind some of the people here. Not so much Boots and the like, but the scullery maids and the street kids. People who get stepped on and can’t do anything about it.”

“Do you think you’d be able to help them with your original plan?”

“I thought I could. But maybe not. It sure wasn’t moving in that direction in a hurry.”

I nodded. “Well, we don’t have to give up on them forever. Maybe we can start a recruitment program. A lottery or scholarship or something for people who want to go to the big city to join the guards, or the serving staff, or to become healers or farmers, or so on.”

“Huh. Maybe. We’d have to figure out a way to keep anyone from imitating the recruiters, so nobody gets taken advantage of, and a way to get people to trust whoever we send in the first place, but we might figure something out.” He tugged absently at a lock of his hair. “Maybe we could send a priest around every so often with an armed escort. At least we could offer some hope to people who get sick or injured.”

“Maybe we can send books, or performers to tell stories, and kind of seed the idea of nicer ways to keep the peace.”

“Hm. Yeah.” He glanced up at me with a self-deprecating little smirk. “Maybe she should have sent you on this job instead of me.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m sure you’ve picked up a lot of important information on what kinds of ideas they’ll be open to around here. Won’t help if a troupe misses the mark and gets laughed out of town for being too lovey-dovey.”

“Right. Yeah, they have some specific taste when it comes to storytelling.”

“So it’s not like it’s been a waste for you to come here. But I don’t think you have to stay here and see it through to the bitter end.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right.” He gave a noisy sigh and slumped against the wall, like he’d just dropped half the tension he was carrying and it had been the main thing holding him up. “Goddess. I’ve been digging myself in deeper and deeper for so long that it’s been weeks since I even dared to think about afterwards. Damn. It’d be irresponsible to just up and leave in the middle of the night without planning any kind of transition for the group. They’d just fight it out and leave the survivor in charge. But I can’t wait to get out of here.”

I smiled, feeling about a million times happier than when we’d walked into this room. “What do you need to do before you go?”

He held up a hand and started touching his fingers in turn to count. “Setting up the info feeds. Reorganizing the hierarchy without me. Might wanna set up one more secret safe house in case I need to come back incognito. And I’d rather come up with a cover story that doesn’t look like I’m running away, so the people that’ve been making my life hell don’t think they’ve got a foolproof strategy to use on the next guy they don’t like. Or on me, if I have to make a reappearance.”

“Tell people that your devastatingly attractive lover has lured you away from this life,” I said, delivering the suggestion with stageworthy drama and earning an amused look from Erik. “And then if you absolutely must return someday, you can play the part of the bitter old man and say...” I dropped my voice into my best impression of a grizzled old grump. “It was never worth having a heart to be broken.”

Erik laughed, and my heart soared to hear it. Maybe it wouldn’t take him forever to heal from this place.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. Good plan.” He stretched, leaned forward, and put a foot back down on the floor. “Well. Think you could sleep? I’d like to see you off early in the morning, if you don’t mind. Safest time to leave town, when people are sleeping off nighttime skullduggery.”

I hesitated. “Sure you don’t want company until you leave town?”

“Nah. I do appreciate the offer, Sylv, but it really would mean I have to spend more energy bullying people into respecting you, and it’d push back my time of departure that much more. I’d rather get out of here in a couple days and look you up when I get back. Maybe you all can throw a party for me on the other side.”

I beamed, because Erik usually claimed to hate being the excuse for a party, and though it might have sounded like a selfish suggestion, it was really an apology and a peace offering. There were few hobbies I loved more than planning a party for a friend, and he knew it.

I was sure I could come up with something he’d enjoy. Maybe some darts and other little games of dexterity. Some of those slightly sweet pastries from Hotto that he liked better than he admitted. Close friends only.

He stood up and lifted the chest he’d been sitting on. I watched, startled, while he carried it towards the door.

“Do you want a hand, darling?” I asked belatedly.

“Nah, I’m good.” He set it down in front of the door, then turned to glance at me and rubbed the back of his head. “It’s in case somebody picks the lock in the night. At least the noise will wake me up if they have to shove some furniture out of the way.” 

“I see.”

“And...” He threw me another faintly embarrassed glance as he turned to cross the room. He lifted a bar from the floor and slotted it through a pair of metal brackets I hadn’t noticed on either side of the window. “If you need to get out of the room in a hurry, unlatch this bit here and yank the bar out of the way. The shutters open inwards. I think you’ll fit through the window well enough, yeah?” He turned and appeared to be measuring the width of my shoulders.

“I’m sure I could,” I said with a little smile. After all that talk about me being a burden, it was nice to hear that he had enough faith in my acrobatic skill to simply assume I would be totally fine on the outside of a second story window. “Quite a bedtime ritual. I’m glad you’re getting out of here soon.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

I glanced at the bed. “We sharing the bed?” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time we’d shared a blanket, given our years on the road and the huddles we’d all formed together on cold nights, though if I recalled correctly, it would be the first time just the two of us had shared a room.

“Uh, if it doesn’t bother you. Gonna sleep better knowing you’re in a secure location, and I don’t have a two-bed room handy.”

“Not a problem.” I pulled the braid out of my hair so it wouldn’t make an uncomfortable pillow out of itself, and I stashed my makeshift jewelry in my lute case. “Back to back?” I offered.

“Um...”

I looked up at his hesitation. “Yes?”

“Nevermind, just had a weird idea.”

“You know I love hearing weird ideas.”

“It’s just...I was thinking about back when I was with the Vikings, and a lot of days, the only time I relaxed at all…”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Well, a long time ago, I used to kind of sleep laying with Mia tucked up against me when it was cold, and we were kids, and...I guess I felt like I was keeping her safe, except it made me feel safer too.”

I smiled at the adorable image. Then I registered Erik staring over my shoulder, and I blinked with sudden understanding.

“Are you asking me for a cuddle?” I asked. I pressed my fingers over my smile.

“Sorry, it’s weird, isn’t it? Kind of a kid thing to do.”

“Not really. I mean, sure, some people might make it weird, but I don’t mind a nice, simple, friendly snuggle.”

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Really?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all, darling.”

“Okay.”

I tried to ratchet my smile down from astonished delight to simple friendly welcome. If anyone could use a bit of friendly basic human touch right now, I figured it was Erik coming off of months without a moment of relaxation or positive companionship. And I didn’t want to scare him off by making too big a deal of it.

I climbed into the bed. “Any particular arrangement in mind?”

“Um. You could face the wall? So I’ll be laying down between you and the door.”

“Oh? I get to be the little spoon?” My delight spiked again. No one ever asked me to be little spoon.

“Huh?”

“It’s a deal,” I said, and I scooted into position.

It took me half a minute longer before I registered one of the other implications: that he wanted this position in order to feel like he was keeping me safe by putting his own body between me and any unforeseen threats. That felt new and a little strange between us, though I guessed I shouldn’t have been surprised about it after the rest of the evening.

He settled down behind me, close enough that I felt the bed shift, but not close enough to touch. For a second I wondered whether he was going to follow through after all. But then he scooted forward after all and pressed up against my back. He set a hand on my elbow, then moved it to my waist, and finally, tentatively, slipped forward to rest his forearm against my ribs.

Well, as I said, I’d spent more than one night of my life cuddling with a friend who just wanted a little bit of friendly platonic touch in their life. And sometimes I’d been the friend. This wasn’t, as Erik had inquired, weird. Not in my books.

“You sure this isn’t weird? I can move.”

“No, darling. This is just fine.”

But I couldn’t help feeling like it meant more to me than those other times. Maybe it was because I had the notion that the list of people from whom Erik would ever have requested this favor was vanishingly small. Maybe because I couldn’t recall another case when the arrangement was tied up with an idea of somebody else wanting to keep me safe. Or maybe it was because he’d said some very nice things to me tonight, and that together with the earlier pretense of romance had me starting to wonder whether or not there was an actual possibility of romance.

I listened to him breathe for a minute. Felt his breath, warm against my hair. It was nice. I maybe fell a teensy bit in love.

“Not gonna bother you to sleep like this?” he asked.

“Not at all.” I carefully moved my own arm to line up over his, lightly enough that I wouldn’t trap him in place, but hoping to reinforce my words.

He stayed still as a statue in response to my movement, so I left my arm in its new position, and I waited to see if he wanted anything different.

Nothing changed for a little while, and my thoughts had just started to wander toward sleep before I felt Erik sigh and relax. He rested a little more of the weight of his arm against my side. I smiled, thinking he’d finally drifted off.

And then I heard his voice, soft in my ear. “I’m glad you’re here, Sylv. I’m sorry I was an ass about it earlier. I’m really glad you’re here. Thanks for coming.”

I teared up a little, and I moved my arm a smidge so I could press my hand against his. “I’m glad I’m here, too, darling.”

Maybe it wasn’t specifically about romance, but I did feel safe, and some kind of loved. I slept like a baby, there in the dangerous town full of dangerous people.

  


* * *

  


On the way to the town gates, I saw a handful of people watching us pass, including the same little girl from yesterday. She didn’t try to approach, this time, so I dipped a hand into my own pocket, pulled out the coin I’d stashed there, and flipped it to her with a wink. She lit up as she caught it out of the air. Erik said nothing, but I caught a hint of a smile on him.

Erik walked with me until a few paces outside the town limits, and then our steps slowed. I turned to face him.

“Well, darling, it was absolutely delightful to see you again. I can hardly wait until you come see me next,” I said, projecting for the sake of our audience. I leaned my face down next to his, easily within kissing range, pointing my best sultry little smile at him.

I didn’t actually go so far as to initiate a kiss. A little suggestive posturing could get across a story of romantic tension even better than actual contact, I knew. True, I’d kissed him on stage once before, purely for the sake of a show, but that was coordinated and agreed upon in advance. It wasn’t really necessary here, and I expected it might be pushing him a little too far, especially after I’d woken up with his arm still around me in the name of platonic comfort.

But maybe I wanted to tease him, just a little. Payback for springing a pretend romance on me in the tavern. If you pulled that on The Great Sylv, you got what you got.

Erik’s eyes met mine, and the corners of his mouth turned up, and then he surprised me once again by reaching for my face with both hands and pulling me right into the offered kiss.

Well, once I found one or two of my wits, I decided that for the part we were playing, this certainly couldn’t be some soft, shy first kiss. So I really leaned into it: I wound my fingers into his hair and made an audible sigh of approval and did my best to make it look like a passionate, memorable exchange.

He fully cooperated, to the point where my awareness of the stage faded to the back of my mind and the notion of true romance popped back into my head for a moment. Maybe it was just as well I wasn’t sticking around for the rest of the day if I was this easy to distract, because I really wasn’t paying attention to our surroundings.

After a respectable little duration, he pulled away and looked up at me with a lopsided smirk. It was easy enough to read the humor in his face, since I knew to look for it, but I couldn’t quite tell if there was a trace of satisfaction there for any reason beyond the likely effectiveness of the improvised performance.

I had a feeling I’d be thinking about that kiss for quite a while, myself. I gave him a smile with genuine affection in return.

He took a moment to smooth out my collar for me, and he finished by pressing his hands down on my shoulders. “Watch your back. Don’t hesitate to stick anyone who sneaks up on you.” Another line delivered with stage-worthy volume.

“Darling, you know I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah. I do know.”

“But I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” He gave my shoulders one more squeeze, then gently pushed me away. “I’ll see you soon enough.”

“I’ll count the hours,” I declared.

He raised a hand in farewell and winked at me before he turned on his heel and strolled back into town. I watched him go, puzzling over why the mannerism struck me as familiar, before I realized he’d stolen one of my own favorite postures for executing a stylish exit. I laughed to myself as I turned and set out down the road.

“Hour one,” I murmured, and I set my mind to party planning.


End file.
